


any way you like it

by logorrhea



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Cuckolding, F/M, Jealousy, Third Wheels, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logorrhea/pseuds/logorrhea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley likes seeing him jealous and he likes giving her what she wants.  A win-win situation, in short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	any way you like it

**Author's Note:**

> Harley and Joker absolutely stole the show for me.

He promises her everything, after she's thrown it all away. She laughs, wrapping her arms around him, and kisses him again.

"I want you."

She tastes of hydroxide, just like him.

"And whatever you want," he answers, "You shall receive."

And so he lifts her out of the vat before setting her on the ground. They kiss again, covered in corroded strips of fabric.

-

 _Whatever you want_. It's an absurd promise, and perhaps one she failed to notice. He's never promised anything to anyone, least of all everything, but here they are.

-

Still, he has yet to break it.

-

Case in point, when he reclaims his throne and gifts her with the title of 'Queen', she saunters into the spotlight like it was made for her.

In the club he owns, she sings and dances, sashaying like a stripper, and all the eyes follow her every step.

The patrons know better than to touch.

But Harley... Harley never played within the rules.

Did she enjoy them? Perhaps.

But what she enjoyed most, and made no effort of hiding it, was his reaction at the transgression.

"Puddin," she purrs, sidling up to one of the district heads, "I like this one. Can I have him?"

"Of course, pumpkin," he readily replies, reaching out to palm the back of her neck, "Whatever you want."

"Mr. J., I really shouldn't -- " the head protests.

"Shh," Harley hushes, pressing a finger over his mouth, "Don't lie," she adds, rolling her hips so that she was pressed up against his crotch, "You're interested in me too, aren't you?"

"I -- "

With the wide eyes of prey, he swivels back to the Joker.

The trick is: there is no way out. As soon as Harley's set her eye on someone, they're dead. Whether it's for touching her or refusing her, that's up to them.

Turns out, most everyone would like a quick fuck before death.

Conversely though, no fuck -- however sweet -- is worth death.

-

The first couple times his queen had come up with this play, he had been close to being consumed with envy, sight swirling at the edges with red and green.

Those early attractions had been sorry affairs; even Harley wouldn't be able to piece those corpses together.

But now, while watching her push the other man and rut against him, he feels a quiet, almost comforting rage. The piece of shit who was enjoying her attention, her touch, her carresses, her hot tight cunt, was going to pay for it. Which of them would deliver the finishing blow was the only question.

"Oh," Harley gasps, making eye contact with him and pulling him from visions of death, "This one is a good one Puddin," she licks her upper lip, beckoning him closer, and stabs her no-longer-willing partner's thigh when the Joker acquiesces, coming closer to be pulled into a kiss.

"You're so good to me," she moans, pressing against him while speared on someone else's cock. "So, so, so good to me, my Puddin'..."

As she crests to orgasm, he cradles her neck with one hand, reaching over to slit the third wheel's throat with the other.

The dead man's body _jerks_ and she goes with him, eye snapping open and mouth closing in a little 'o' in surprise.

He digs his nails into her still-clothed hips, leaning in to whisper:

"I want to fuck you now."

"Mm," she smiles, turning her head and tonguing his ear, "I would like that."

So he lifts her up and sets her down, unzipping his own slacks the bare minimum before plunging into her right over the corpse.

No matter how many times they do it over fresh bodies, the sight of new blood against her skin never stops being so titillating.

He kisses her with hunger, and she wraps her legs about him in answer, moaning for more, more, _more_.

It's what he promised.

-

When they've had their fill of this bystander -- though not quite enough of each other -- he buttons up her skirt and she slides him back in, licking her fingers and palm after redoing his zipper.

He grabs at her hand, kissing the back of it, and stands up and steps down, ushering her along as if the body were a step.

"Puddin," she murmurs against his ear as they're driving back, "When we get back, I want you to clean me up with your tongue, okay?"

Where does she want to be cleaned? In the bathroom? The bedroom? The front hallway? In the car? Would they manage to get out of their clothes before then, or would he have to gnaw through her soaked panties? Fuck, he's getting hard at the thought of it.

"Whatever you want, pumpkin," he replies, tweaking her nose.


End file.
